


WoI Episode 8: More Gender Relations

by MrsHamill, RembrandtsWife



Series: Riding the Wheel of If [9]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, Gender or Sex Swap, M/M, Multi, Multiverse, Other, Self-cest, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-03-29
Updated: 2000-03-29
Packaged: 2018-08-20 02:58:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8233748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsHamill/pseuds/MrsHamill, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RembrandtsWife/pseuds/RembrandtsWife
Summary: A couple of the odder universes...





	

**Author's Note:**

> There is a spew warning for the second half, which is a crossover with both The Order of Glitter and Sithacademy.

Mar-Gon Jinn was reviewing the latest files on the Trade Federation’s claims on Naboo when the door chimed. She saved the information in a priority folder and went to answer the door.

There stood Yoda, a most peculiar smile on his face, beside a handsome young Knight she’d never seen before – but who looked oddly familiar. 

“Mar-Gon. Surprise I have for you. Tea you must make, yes. Need it you shall.”

Mar-Gon looked down at the old troll, then up at the Knight. He smiled up at her, a smile that made her nipples harden underneath her tunics. Why did he look so familiar? “Yes, Master Jinn,” the young Knight said, “I’d love to have a cup of your mostreth tea.”

Being a wise Jedi Master, Mar-Gon went with the Force. “Do come in, Master, sir Knight. I’ll make a pot of mostreth right away.”

As she puttered about in the kitchen, pre-heating the teapot and filling the basket with a fragrant handful of leaves, she was naggingly aware of the Force-signature of the strange Knight. Like his face, like his smile, it was not nearly as strange as it ought to be. She arranged pot, cups, spoons, and two kinds of sweetener on a tray, admiring the contrast between green glaze and black lacquer, and carried it all to her guests, kneeling to place it on the low table before the couch without spilling a drop.

Mar-Gon poured three cups and placed a spoon in each one, aware that Yoda and the young Knight were watching her intently. She offered one cup to her old Master and another to the Knight; his fingertips brushed hers, and she felt a curious quiver. It was not like her to react so strongly to a stranger, even one so handsome as this; her body was normally under her command, ruled by her commitment to the lover who was also her Padawan.

All three of them drank the first cup in silence. Mar-Gon felt the young Knight still watching her, and tuned into his Force-signature. It was so like her Padawan’s … Could he be a relative, then? A cousin or even a brother trained at one of the smaller temples?

Yoda set down his cup on the table with a distinct clack and waved away Mar-Gon’s offer of a refill. “Much to discuss, there is.” The old Master glanced sidelong at the young Knight, who inclined his head. “Shorten the tale, I will. Obi-Wan Kenobi this is, Jedi Knight.”

Kenobi! thought Mar-Gon. Then he is kin to my Padawan.

“Lost his Master too soon, he has.” Yoda closed his eyes for a moment. Both Mar-Gon and Kenobi waited for him to go on. “Qui-Gon Jinn his Master was. You, Mar-Gon, his Master are.”

“I, Master Yoda? What do you mean?” Mar-Gon knelt to pour a second cup of tea for herself and one for Kenobi.

“Obi-Wan is … from another reality. Different, things may be, on different turns of the wheel, the wheel of possibility. Male, was his Master Jinn – female, you are, but otherwise, the same. Even so, male, he is, female is your Padawan – yet they are the same.”

Mar-Gon looked at Obi-Wan Kenobi. No, stared at him, her curiosity blatant, as he sipped his tea. Why had she not seen it before? The cleft in his chin. The small brown mole on his right cheek, and the lighter mole on his forehead. The color of his eyes when they finally met hers, sea-green shaded with grey, eyes that would change with every shift of emotion. And the familiar Force-signature, so like her Padawan’s. As much like Sil-Wan as the moles, the cleft chin, the changeful eyes.

“Yoda,” she finally said, “this is absolutely flabbergasting. This young … man … is Padawan … I mean, Knight Kenobi? But … but …” 

Before anyone else could speak to clarify the situation, the main door of the apartment opened and Mar-Gon’s Padawan came in. She stopped, her arms full of datapads, and executed a short bow. “I’m sorry, Master. I didn’t realize we were entertaining.” 

Now that they were both in the room, the resemblance between them was overwhelming. Knight Kenobi appeared to be a few years older, but they were otherwise like identical twins who were somehow of different sexes. Mar-Gon found herself looking from one to the other, blinking her disbelief. Obi-Wan and Sil-Wan were gazing at one another as if entranced. Only Yoda appeared unmoved by the juxtaposition of the two Kenobis.

“That’s perfectly all right, Sil-Wan.” Mar-Gon congratulated herself on sounding relatively calm and Masterly. “Drop those pads and join us, please. I have someone here for you to meet.”

Sil-Wan obeyed, leaving the datapads at the workstation and tucking her hands into her sleeves as she turned back. Obi-Wan rose to his feet, and they faced one another, eye to eye. He was barely taller than Sil-Wan; both were a few inches shorter than Mar-Gon.

Unexpectedly, Yoda laughed, a sound like a rusty old hatch being forced open. “Like twins they are! See it do you, my Padawan?”

“I would not have believed it if I hadn’t seen it, Master,” she said at last. “It’s … it’s incredible.”

Sil-Wan spoke at last. “Do … do I know you?” she asked the young Knight.

He grinned in response, and Mar-Gon’s heart leaped, for it was Sil-Wan’s mad, reckless, un-Jedi grin.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he said, offering Sil-Wan his hand. “And by the Force have I got a story to tell you.”

\---

Mar-Gon lay awake late that night, despite all her Jedi discipline, despite the slow breathing of her Padawan in the aftermath of loving. Sil-Wan’s hands had soothed her body, promising and then giving pleasure, but no amount of physical release could have quieted her mind. On the one hand, she was fascinated by the concept of alternative realities, of parallel universes separated by mere details – here, the middle child of the Jinn sept of the Harawal clan was a girl; there, that child was born a boy. On the other hand, she was apprehensive about the upcoming mission to Naboo.

Until Obi-Wan’s arrival, it had seemed like a fairly routine mission, a matter of negotiations, outwitting and outlasting the subtle and always mendacious Trade Federation representatives. But Obi-Wan had sworn that she and Sil-Wan were walking into a battle with a Sith. A Sith! And the Apprentice only, not the Master. Obi-Wan and his Master, his Jinn, had not both survived that battle. Of course, they had walked in blind, not knowing the true adversary that awaited them, and she and Sil-Wan, thanks to Obi-Wan, were prepared for the confrontation. He had promised to drill them, on the morrow, to show her the very move that had taken her counterpart’s life and arm her against it. She could not but admire the courage that enabled him to re-enact the pain of his loss in order to protect another.

Mar-Gon turned over in bed, stifling a sigh. That pain was very real, she sensed. Beneath the considerable charm, the confidence with which he delivered his message, the hurt was still alive. Seeing her intimacy with Sil-Wan had touched his wound; she had felt the little flare of grief and, yes, anger. She was almost as attuned to Obi-Wan’s emotions, she realized, as to her Padawan’s. He was her Padawan; she could feel the truth of it in the Force.

“Master?”

Mar-Gon rolled over. Sil-Wan’s eyes gleamed silver in the semi-darkness. “I thought you asleep, beloved.”

“I was. But I heard you thinking.” Sil-Wan grinned, then burrowed close, her hair tickling Mar-Gon’s breasts. “He’s very lonely, Master. I can feel it in him.”

“I feel it, too.” Mar-Gon ran her hand over the brushy hair and, as so often, grasped her Padawan’s braid. “He has been given a heavy task, to right others’ wrongs in the hope of righting his own. I hope he finds, someday, what he seeks.” 

Sil-Wan did not answer right away. Her hand caressed Mar-Gon’s hip. “I can’t imagine,” she said at last, “what it would be like to see you die, never having told you how I love you.”

“You needn’t imagine it,” Mar-Gon said firmly, “for it shall never happen. Even if one of us should perish tomorrow, we will have had the joy of being lovers.”

“It’s so sad that Obi-Wan never had that.” Sil-Wan raised her head; a tear glistened on her cheek. “Isn’t it, Master?”

“Very sad, beloved. Very sad.” Mar-Gon kissed away the tear, then kissed her Padawan’s mouth. One thing led to another, and after this round, Mar-Gon slept.

\---

Panting, Mar-Gon turned her practice ‘saber point down, signaling a halt. “I must rest a moment, Obi-Wan!”

“Very well.”

The three of them had been practicing for much of the day using unpowered practice ‘sabers with lightweight foam blades and a staff Obi-Wan had replicated. In the center of the staff were two interlocked dummy ‘saber hilts like those of the women’s practice weapons; from each hilt protruded a foam blade, creating a formidable weapon almost as long as the Knight was tall. He was able to separate the two hilts and use each half as a normal ‘saber, but even as a staff, Obi-Wan wielded it with surprising skill; Mar-Gon reflected that he must have replayed the battle in his mind many times, analyzing each blow and creating alternative parries, alternative outcomes.

They had been drilling for the last two hours without a break. Again and again Obi-Wan brought up the hilt of his ‘saber toward Mar-Gon’s chin, and again and again she found new ways to deflect the blade before it could be turned and driven into her heart. Sil-Wan backed her up with tireless energy, but Obi-Wan was relentless. As a fighter he reminded Mar-Gon of her Padawan, and of herself; he fought like one used to sparring with a partner of greater height and longer reach, and held his own against her better even than Sila.

“My apologies, Master.” Obi-Wan dropped the practice staff and bowed, then sank cross-legged to the floor, head drooping. He was as tired as they were, Mar-Gon saw, and more anxious. “My actions were clouded by my feelings. I keep remembering how – how Qui-Gon and I quarreled. Over Anakin.”

Mar-Gon signaled Sil-Wan to fetch some water for the three of them and sat down beside Obi-Wan. “Tell me about Anakin, Pa– Obi-Wan.”

A sad smile flickered across his mouth as she almost called him “Padawan.” “He’s a good child. Really. I wonder – I wonder how he’s doing without me.” He raised his head, but he was not looking at Mar-Gon. She studied his face without feeling intrusive. “I told you we had to land on Tattooine and acquire a new hyperdrive unit, in order to get to Coruscant. Anakin was working in the shop of the Toydarian parts dealer Master went to.” Obi-Wan swallowed. “He was a slave, he and his mother, owned by the Toydarian. I know Qui-Gon hated that.”

Mar-Gon made an encouraging noise. Taking the water ampule from Sila, she pressed it into Obi-Wan’s hand. He drank it off without even noticing its presence. “The boy was very intelligent – is very intelligent. Obvious Jedi abilities, despite an utter lack of training. Certainly a standard screening would have caught him, if he’d grown up on a Republic planet instead of a Hutt-controlled sandheap. Any Jedi would have wanted to get him out of there and get him back to Coruscant, perhaps get him trained as a pilot or a healer. But that wasn’t enough for Qui-Gon.”

Obi-Wan swallowed convulsively. At the same moment, Sil-Wan squeezed her Master’s hand. “Qui-Gon believed he was the Chosen One of prophecy, the highly gifted one who could bring balance to the Force. I disagreed – and so did the Council.” He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, he focused on Mar-Gon. “I suppose it wouldn’t surprise you to learn that he didn’t care if he disagreed with the Council.”

“No, it’s not a surprise,” Sil-Wan put in. Mar-Gon hushed her.

“We argued over it, over his insistence on training the boy when the Naboo situation had turned out to be much larger and more complicated than we’d ever suspected. The Council simply wanted him to concentrate on the larger picture for the moment, and so did I. But to Qui-Gon, whether Anakin was the Chosen One or not _was_ the larger picture. I’m sure he thought all the events up to that point, the whole Naboo conflict, were the Force’s way of leading him to Anakin. He was so certain of that that he claimed Anakin as his Padawan learner before the Council. In my presence.”

A tiny hiss escaped Sil-Wan. Mar-Gon soothed Sila with her right hand and reached out to Obi-Wan with her left. But he did not take the hand she offered, did not accept her touch.

“I won’t deny that it hurt. Perhaps the Jedi ideal is to accept whatever comes, to flow with serenity instead of clinging in passion, but I felt that he had not only disavowed our history as Master and Apprentice, but whatever hope we had of a future relationship. It hurt and – there was no time to meditate, to resolve the hurt, before I saw that red blade pass through his chest. There was no time to tell him I still loved him in spite of the hurt and the anger.”

There was a brief silence. Mar-Gon did not know what to say, and she knew Sil-Wan was choking back tears. Then Obi-Wan got to his feet, putting a hand out now to help Mar-Gon up. “Just let me get some more water, and then we’ll get back to work.”

He strode off, looking so much like Sila from behind. Mar-Gon turned to her Padawan, who clutched at her arm. “Master –”

“Never, Padawan, never –”

Heedless of decorum, Mar-Gon pulled Sil-Wan close and kissed her, clinging and being clung to. She knew Obi-Wan must see, but at the moment, she could not care. They would tend to Obi-Wan later. She would see to it.

\---

During dinner that evening, and after, Obi-Wan reiterated that they must stay together if – when – they confronted the Sith. They must not allow the energy barriers to come between them. Sil-Wan at last put an end to his obsessive repetitions by excusing herself to take a shower. Mar-Gon was not displeased to see that she kissed Obi-Wan before departing, in a quite unsibling-like fashion. Mar-Gon, too, gave him a chaste kiss on the forehead before retiring to her room.

All the while she meditated, facing toward the window and the sunset, she felt the thrum of his arousal and Sil-Wan’s, so very much alike. The thrum intensified when Sila slipped into the room, half-naked, smelling of heat and soap, but the Padawan knelt beside her Master and joined her meditation until Mar-Gon bowed and stretched.

Sil-Wan moved behind Mar-Gon and rubbed her Master’s shoulders. Mar-Gon relaxed gratefully; despite an earlier rubdown, she was still sore from their practice session with Obi-Wan. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Master?” Sil-Wan asked presently.

“I’m feeling what you’re feeling, Padawan.” Mar-Gon twisted around, smiling, to be met by a passionate kiss. She twined her fingers around Sila’s braid and responded in kind. “Do you really want this, beloved? To bring someone else into our bed?”

Sila grinned impishly. “He isn’t ‘someone else,’ Master. He’s _me_. For me, it will be like – self-pleasure. For you, like having two of me. What could be better than that?” Mar-Gon tweaked a pert nipple, and Sila laughed, but sobered quickly. “He needs to be loved, Master. More than that, he needs to be loved by … by Master Jinn. You have more than enough love in your soul for two Kenobis. I have enough love for myself – and love from you – to share this with him without feeling … cast aside.”

Mar-Gon nodded. “Fetch him, then.” Sila rose to obey. Mar-Gon caught her hand. “Tell him I said, feel, don’t think.” 

“I’d’ve told him that anyway. It’s what you always tell me.”

Sil-Wan slipped out as quietly as she had come in. Mar-Gon rose and untied the sash of her leisure gown. It had been a very long time since she’d been with a man … decades, by the Force. She hadn’t missed the experience; her life had been filled with Sila. But Sila was right – Obi-Wan Kenobi wasn’t a stranger, wasn’t just some male. He was Sil-Wan Kenobi – in a slightly different package.

When the door opened, she turned to face them, letting the robe slip down her arms.

“Hello, Obi-Wan.”

She actually saw the hitching of his chest, as his breath caught at the sight of her. Was one middle-aged woman, scarred and broken-nosed, so breathtaking to this boy? Sil-Wan, behind him, pushed Obi-Wan forward, and he stumbled toward her, into her arms.

He wept, for a few moments, against her shoulder, and she held him, crooning softly, while Sila embraced them both from behind him. Then he raised his head and kissed her, and she felt her nipples harden as they had when he first smiled at her … was it only yesterday? His lips were a little firmer, a little drier, but the taste of his mouth was like Sila’s, and the scent of his hair. Still, she was surprised by the sudden leap of his arousal under his night tunic.

“Come to bed, you two.” Sil-Wan was tugging at them with urgent hands. Mar-Gon stumbled across the room, still clutching Obi-Wan, and they all tumbled onto the broad bed, Obi-Wan in the middle.

He was kissing her passionately, and Mar-Gon yielded to his desire, letting him drink from her mouth, and kiss his way down her throat, across her shoulder, along her collarbone, to her breast. She wondered how he would touch her breasts – large, heavy breasts that sagged a little with age, despite her excellent condition – his Master Jinn had not had breasts … Thought dissolved as he scraped his teeth delicately over one nipple and then sucked languorously.

“Ahhh …” Mar-Gon sprawled out on her back, quite ready to let Obi-Wan have his way. He lingered over her breasts with a skill and tenderness which bespoke some experience with women, pleasuring her with lips and fingers and tongue until, to her surprise, she reached a first climax, with a little cry.

His smug smile at her outcry of pleasure told her that he had been hoping for that very response. She was about to scold him when Sila spoke first.

“Your turn.”

With Jedi speed, Sil-Wan pinned Obi-Wan to the bed and took his cock in her mouth. He groaned loudly and went limp under her hands. Mar-Gon rolled onto her side and propped herself on one elbow, watching as her Padawan showed unexpected talent for fellatio. Obi-Wan was generously endowed for a man of his build, and Sil-Wan impressed her Master by how much of the thick, solid organ she was able to take in at once.

Mar-Gon moved closer, to kiss Obi-Wan’s cheek and caress his nipples, as stiff now as her own. “I never knew Sila was so good at this. She must have had a few lovers I didn’t know about.”

Sila tossed her head. “It’s wonderful what one can learn from reading.” She slid a hand under Obi-Wan’s balls and sucked him in again. His groan was closer to a scream this time.

“Do you want her to make you come, Obi-Wan? Do you want to spill for us?” She trailed her fingers across his belly. “If you come now, can you come again?”

“Yes, yes, yes!”

Obi-Wan arched upward, his voice breaking as he cried out. Sil-Wan pulled away and seized his cock in her hand, stroking him wildly as he came in long spurts. His semen, sharply yeast-smelling, fell on Sila’s breasts and belly, glistening there like pearls.

Sila sat back, panting. It was her turn to smile smugly as Obi-Wan lay panting, his organ depleted if not much diminished. Mar-Gon slithered over his legs toward her Padawan.

“I hope you don’t mind, Obi-Wan, if we keep going while you recover …” She pressed Sila down to the bed, kissing her hungrily and tasting a hint of Obi-Wan. Her roaming hand encountered the sticky moisture on Sila’s breasts, and she began to rub it in, working her way around to Sila’s nipples. Sila moaned and squirmed, squealing with joy when Mar-Gon finally bent to suckle at her breasts.

When Mar-Gon lowered her hand to Sila’s belly, questing for her sex, she met Obi-Wan’s hand headed the same way. She turned to look at him. “She doesn’t like penetration much,” she warned him. Her voice was hoarse with passion.

“I’ll be careful,” he replied. Mar-Gon withdrew, taking Sila’s braid and using it to tickle her nipples while Obi-Wan explored his counterpart’s pussy. The smell of Sila’s arousal filled Mar-Gon’s nostrils, and it was so like the smell of Obi-Wan’s semen … Mar-Gon shifted around and nuzzled Obi-Wan’s burgeoning cock. 

“Oh, Master …” The two Kenobis clung to one another, panting in synchrony, Obi-Wan rubbing Sila’s clit in careful circles while Mar-Gon mouthed the head of his cock. Sila squeaked, and Mar-Gon looked to find Obi-Wan kissing the girl’s breasts, one finger probing inside her.

“Feels good, Master,” Sila panted, and Mar-Gon went back to sucking Obi-Wan. Idly she wondered what her penis would be like if she had one, if she were male like Obi-Wan’s Jinn. If it was bigger than Obi-Wan’s, potential bottoms would flee in fear.

Obi-Wan shifted, and Mar-Gon pulled back – Sila had pushed him away. “I’m fine, Master, Obi. You two go on.” Sil-Wan backed away, lying on her side so that she could watch the two of them. Mar-Gon looked to Obi.

“I think I want to return the favor,” he said, smiling as he sat up. They exchanged places, and Mar-Gon reached out to stroke Sila’s hair as Obi-Wan settled between her legs.

He was unbelievably, impossibly good. He was, in other words, as good as Sil-Wan. He seemed to know what she liked and what she didn’t, and what she liked best. He knew when to slip two fingers inside her and press forward and up, making her arch and growl like a great feline. He knew when to stop for a moment and kiss her thighs, brush his finger over her clitoris. He knew exactly how to make her come, twice, and three times, deep climaxes that were like a fist clenching and unclenching deep inside.

“I have an idea.”

Mar-Gon and Obi-Wan turned to Sila. “Master, do you want him to –” She broke off, and Mar-Gon felt rather than saw her blush.

“Yes, beloved.” She looked at Obi-Wan. “Oh, Obi-Wan, I want you to fuck me.”

“Master –” His voice broke. Mar-Gon pulled him down to her breast.

Sila reached out and stroked his hair. “If you don’t mind, twin, I thought of a way you can have us both.” 

Obi-Wan laughed out loud, with a burst of desire so strong it almost made Mar-Gon come again, through the Force.

“If I don’t mind?” He sat up, dashing his hand across his eyes. “Twin, I’d like nothing better.”

A minute later, Obi-Wan was lying on his back in the center of the bed. Sil-Wan knelt over his face, facing toward his feet so she could see Mar-Gon, who had straddled his hips. Everything seemed to hang still for a moment while Mar-Gon reached between her thighs and guided Obi-Wan’s cock inside her.

Force, he was big! But he held still, letting her sink down onto him, taking his length in increments as she let her muscles relax. He was big, yes, but she was wet and open, and oh, he fit so perfectly inside her. She could not remember it ever feeling this right, the presence of a man’s cock inside her, feeling that he was yielding as much as she was.

“Does it feel good, Master?” That was Sil-Wan.

“So good, Sil-Wan. It feels so right.”

Mar-Gon just held him for a moment, savoring the fullness and the heat of him inside her. Sil-Wan shifted position, putting herself closer to Obi-Wan so he could reach her and pleasure her with his mouth. When she cried out, Mar-Gon began to move, slowly at first, only back and forth. Obi-Wan moved with her, and somehow his hands found hers.

Their rhythm accelerated slowly, irregularly. Sometimes Obi-Wan went still; sometimes Mar-Gon ground her sex on his cock. Sil-Wan’s eyes were on her face, Sil-Wan’s hands were on her breasts, her shoulders; they were rocking together, joined by the force that was Obi-Wan.

Gradually Mar-Gon felt all her inhibitions dropping away. She threw back her head as she rose and fell on Obi-Wan’s shaft, moving hard and fast without fear of hurting him. His hands on her hands, Sila’s eyes on her face, kept her grounded, kept her safe from flying away. She grunted with the force of her movements, driving Obi-Wan deeper and deeper, feeling the harsh friction stimulate nerves she hadn’t known she had. The Force glowed around them, a tantalizing shimmer at the edge of her vision, blue and green and gold. Was it one climax or many, one after another or one that never ceased? Waves of pleasure beat on her as the waves of the sea beat on the shore, and everything was the Force – her hand in Obi-Wan’s, his cock in her pussy, her mouth on Sil-Wan’s, Sil-Wan’s clit in his mouth, and the long cry that seemed to echo forever as Obi-Wan came, at last, inside her.

Mar-Gon slept deep, Obi-Wan in her arms, Sil-Wan close by, and forgot her dreams, later, in the urgency of departing for Naboo.

\---

The next morning, Yoda and Obi-Wan saw them to the landing pad. Yoda said nothing to the rather passionate kisses the three of them exchanged before Mar-Gon and Sil-Wan boarded the shuttle, but his eyes missed nothing and his ears were perked straight up. 

“Helped, you have,” Yoda said approvingly as they moved to the garden after seeing the shuttle off. “Averted much tragedy as well, you have. Thank you, we all do.”

Composing himself in his usual sheltered corner, Obi-Wan pulled out his ‘saber and looked at it, then up at the little green Master. “I hope so, Master, I hope so. I – I couldn’t bear it if …”

“Happen it will not,” Yoda insisted. “Worrying about it futile is. Go now, you must, to next place where needed you are.” Reaching one hoary old claw out, Yoda rested it gently on Obi-Wan’s head, blessing him. “Changed this old mind you have. Not easily done is this. May the Force be with you.”

Smiling, Obi-Wan watched Yoda step away from him, claws crossed on his gimmer stick. Nodding once, Obi-Wan pressed the power.

\---

The bang of displaced air was once again lost in a sea of noise; raucous, hammering music with a heavy bass line and inarticulate lyrics. Several people, most with Padawan braids, wandered about the garden, some dancing, some kissing and groping, some apparently meditating. All of them wore colorful tunics … well, colorful wasn’t exactly the right word, Obi-Wan reflected. Gaudy might have covered it better. Some of it was downright shocking. And everyone wore makeup … thick, bright, glittery makeup.

Blinking, Obi-Wan climbed to his feet and slowly made his way inside. _Not that the music is_ bad, he thought to himself, fingers unconsciously twitching in time. _But in the Temple? And those tunics!_ He nearly ran into one Padawan who wore a bright purple spandex shirt over a tiny yellow skirt, and black fishnet stockings tucked into tall, black boots. A strange, sparkly purple top hat was on her head. She grinned at him and swept by, leaving him staring in her wake. 

Seeking out and meeting with Yoda took only a few moments. Over the ubiquitous tea, he explained who he was and Yoda explained what was going on.

“Order of Glitter, it is,” the little green gnome explained happily. “Too bland and boring are old clothes. Variety, the order needs. Looks good in gold lame, does Mace Windu.”

There was really nothing to say to that remark, so Obi-Wan just blinked. After a moment, he asked, “So, do Qui-Gon and this reality’s Obi-Wan follow the new order?”

“Bah,” Yoda said, hopping down from his low chair and walking into his bedroom. His voice floated out, muffled, as though he were changing. “My Padawan does; always a wise one he has been. Dropped trou he did at the Padawan Ball last week. Qui-Gon is much sought after by all in Temple. Hung like bantha is my Padawan,” he finished proudly.

The rustling noises continued, as did Master Yoda. “Obi-Wan follows it not, and many arguments they have had. Needs to listen to his Master does young Obi-Wan. Look good in green eye shadow he would.”

After a few moments, Yoda returned from his bedroom and Obi-Wan gaped in shock. Yoda had caked on hot pink eye shadow and lipstick, and was in the process of pasting on fake, hot-pink nails over his claws. He had a pink feather boa slung around his neck, which trailed on the ground behind him, and somehow had found fishnet stockings to fit his tiny legs, which were a tad longer now that he had four inch spike heels on his feet. He was struggling to get into a floor-length vinyl trenchcoat over his pink bodysuit. “Help me, you will,” he demanded, and a numb Obi-Wan hurried to obey. 

“There. Look hot do I?”

At a loss for words, Obi-Wan struggled to speak, finally just gave up and nodded. “Good. Fashion show there is tonight, and Council Meeting in five minutes. Stay, do you intend?”

“Actually,” Obi-Wan said slowly, “I don’t think there’s anything here for me to do. I wouldn’t want to interfere between what’s happening between your Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, so I’ll just be moving on.”

“Yourself you should suit,” Yoda replied, shrugging as he admired himself in a mirror. “Dye my hair, I think I should,” he mused. Obi-Wan fled.

The garden was still loud, and there were still glitter Padawans all over it as Obi-Wan took his seat again. Shaking his head gently, unconsciously, in time to the music, he pressed the power on his ‘saber.

\---

_One more cup of tea and I might explode,_ Obi-Wan thought to himself, as he sat in Master Yoda’s humid quarters, enjoying – of course – tea, this time with cookies. As usual, Yoda was able to parse his story quickly and completely so that he could ask about Qui-Gon, who in this reality was still Master to Obi-Wan. 

“Not together they are,” Yoda said, frowning. “Broke up, they did. Last week it was.”

“Not together?” Obi-Wan repeated stupidly. “Then they _were_ together at some point …?”

“Yes. Fight they had. Obi-Wan another is seeing, a neighbor it is, some little Sith chippie.”

“A _Sith_? In the Temple?!”

Yoda stared at him. “Calm down you should. Have Prozac, if need it you do. Not in Temple lives Obi-Wan. All Padawans outside they live. Obi-Wan at Coruscant Arms lives.” He cocked his head at the young Knight. “Why upset are you that screwing a Sith Obi-Wan is?”

“The Sith … the Jedi … I don’t …” Obi-Wan was at a loss. Pulling on his ear in confusion, he launched into the story of Qui-Gon’s death and the many worlds he had seen where the Sith had defeated the Jedi. “Senator Palpatine …” he finished, but Yoda was nodding.

“Yes, Senator Palpatine is Sith. Headmaster, he is, of Sith Academy. Good, it is, to keep enemies where they can be seen.”

Rubbing his temples, Obi-Wan winced. “I have a headache.”

Nodding wisely, Yoda said, “Drugs I have for that. Better stash than Qui-Gon. Old I may be, but know I do when cut weed is.” As Yoda puttered back to his bedroom, he said, “Wear more plaid you should. Hot Kenobi looks in a kilt.”

\---

**Episode Eight Epilogue:**

“Master, I think you really must go and see the healers.”

Looking up at her frowning Padawan from her position in bed, Mar-Gon was, at last, inclined to agree. They had survived the mission to Naboo intact – with the help of Obi-Wan’s ‘saber training, a spirited child named Anakin who was now in flight training school, and a female Gungan called Ara-Jari Binks – but while Sil-Wan had bounced back from the battle against the Sith with her usual resilience, Mar-Gon had been suffering from an unusual lassitude with no apparent cause.

“I suppose you’re right, Padawan.” With an effort, Mar-Gon thrust aside the covers and sat up in bed. You go on to your class, Sila. I’ll get dressed on my own and get to the healers directly.”

“Shall I fix you something to eat before I go, Master?”

Mar-Gon’s stomach lurched at the mere thought of food. “No, thank you, Padawan. I’ll get something for myself. Perhaps.”

It took her more than an hour to wash, dress, drink a bit of lingall tea to settle her stomach, and walk to the healers’ wing. In truth, she could have used Sil-Wan’s help in getting herself together, but she had not wanted her Padawan to see her so weak and dispirited. It was almost a relief to sit down with Master Rufeth and describe her symptoms to the healer: fatigue, loss of appetite, upset stomach, a general shift in her energies for which she had no explanation. And in addition, her menstrual flow had not appeared at its usual time, although her Padawan’s had. Ordinarily their cycles synchronized.

“I thought surely it must have been the stress of the mission, but then Sil-Wan came on, so I thought I had better come see you.”

The Twi’lek healer nodded. “A wise decision. If you will lie down –”

\---

“You’re _what_?”

Mar-Gon tucked her hands into her sleeves and repeated what she had said.

“Sil-Wan, I’m pregnant.”


End file.
